shiver
by Nanaho-Hime
Summary: How old is she?" Fidget. Flush. Cough "Seven." Choke. Cough. Cough. Blink "Well that certainly puts a damper on things" Harfang Longbottom and the courtship of Callidora Black. For the Black Family Challenge
1. Chapter 1

Shiver

By Nanaho-Hime

For the Black Family Challenge

Pairing: Callidora Black/ Harfang Longbottom

* * *

_How old is she? _

_Seven._

_Well that certainly puts a damper on things._

_

* * *

_

Puff. Cough. Sigh. Fidget. Glance. Sigh.

"My parents have asked me to look into courting and marrying a Black girl."

Freeze. Inhale. Nod.

"Well, that's interesting. Why do you think they asked for the Blacks specifically?"

Puff. Exhale. Shrug.

"There seems to be a lack of eligible maidens in our social circle."

Pause. Glance. Nod. Cough

"I understand."

Sigh. Glare. Grunt.

"They say I can choose whichever one I like."

Glance. Puff. Nod.

"Well, that's good then isn't it?"

Fidget. Puff. Sigh.

"I suppose."

Study. Cough. Exhale.

"Who have you been looking at?"

Frown. Puff. Exhale.

"Lycoris isn't an option, because it would seem the she has the Black Family lungs. The two only reasonable choices would be either Cassieopia or Callidora, they're the same age and not so ridiculously young that I'd have to wait twenty years to marry them. But from what I hear, Cygnus is trying to make a deal with the Rosiers and it doesn't seem he'll settle for anyone else. Arcturus and Lysandra, on the other hand, are eager to marry their girls off, and they don't care as long as I have the gold and the Longbottom name. I think Callidora is really the only logical choice."

Blanch. Blink. Nod

"That's good. How old is she?"

Fidget. Flush. Cough.

"Seven."

Choke. Cough. Cough. Blink.

"Well, that certainly puts on damper on things."

* * *

Callidora Black is seven years old and not a princess. Callidora is either Callie or Dora or Dorie but she is _never _a princess.

Dora is beautiful, more beautiful than her two sisters, but Dora is wild and Dora is sharp and Dora is intelligent. She isn't afraid of lethifolds in the closet and she can solve Arithmancy problems without a piece of parchment and a quill. Dora scares the other little girls her age because Dora is cold, and Dora doesn't like dresses, and Dora exasperates her parents despite her brilliant mind.

Ella isn't afraid of Dora and neither is Charis. Dora loves her baby sisters more than anyone else in the world, more than difficult Arithmancy problems and scarecrows, and more than the big books in father's library. Ella makes her feel loved and Charis makes her feel important and in her seven year old brilliant mind, she knows she won't ever need anyone else.

Dora doesn't particularly love mum or dad, but Dora loves being a Black, and she is proud of their crest and proud of their pureblood, and so so disdainful of muggle monsters who are stupid, and power hungry and eager to take the place of good pure blood families everywhere.

Dora doesn't tolerate stupidity, or people who are power hungry.

It is a lazy summer afternoon when her mother summons her to the parlor to meet a new friend. Dora sighs and rolls her eyes at Ella and Charis, and they giggle because Dora is the funniest and smartest and prettiest girl in the world and they want to be just like her.

Dora straightens her back and smoothes back her unruly black curls, ready to scare away Ethelinda Yaxley for the third time this week. Dora doesn't like Ethelinda because Ethelinda is frilly and pink and _dull_.

She is pleasantly surprised when she sees that Ethelinda Yaxley is not squirming on the wine red loveseat, but rather there is a tall, handsome man with a vague, thoughtful frown on his face. An elderly witch and wizard are speaking to mum, so she waits politely by her mother's side until she can be addressed.

"This is my eldest daughter Callidora, say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Lonbottom, Callidora."

Dora curtsies and smiles, and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom coo and tell her how beautiful she is. Dora knows how beautiful she is, but people seem to think she needs reminding every once in a while. The thoughtful young man doesn't say anything, but he studies Dora analytically and she finds that she doesn't like that at all.

"Callidora, you go talk with Harfang, show him some of those Arithmancy problems you like to do."

Dora stares at her mother with her big, pale eyes. Lysandra is wearing the same smile she wears when father buys her new jewelry. It is hungry, and greedy and cold and Dora doesn't like it at all. She knows her mother must be receiving something nice, but Dora can't figure out what it is.

Harfang, as her mother called him, is a gentleman and offers Dora his arm but he is too tall and she cannot reach, even when she stands on her tippy toes. So they walk side by side, into the garden and down the path where the rosebushes surround them on all sides. She likes roses because even though they are pretty they have thorns to protect themselves.

Harfang Longbottom is a thoughtful young man, with a thoughtful frown and a soft voice.

"When is your birthday, Callidora?"

She is surprised by the question, but answers primly, "December 9."

Dora is curious about the strange man, who gives her mother nice things, and is soft when he speaks.

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Harfang," she thinks it rather strange to call an older man by his first name, "But why are you here? Did mother ask you to turn me into a lady?"

Harfang pauses, and smiles for the first time since he entered the Derbyshire Manor.

"Are you not a lady, Callidora?"

"According to mother ladies like to sit still and stay quiet and wear dresses, so if that's what ladies like to do than I'm afraid not."

He throws back his head and laughs, a deep throated laugh that makes her feel warm, and she decides that she likes Harfang despite his studying her analytically before.

"Callidora, I am most certainly glad that you are not a lady then, If you have any question for me feel free to ask."

Dora lower lip juts out slightly, and her brow furrows and she ponders which question to ask first. Because she is seven and curiosity was never something she lacked.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"What Hogwarts House are you in?"

"Ravenclaw."

She raises an eyebrow because it's not as good as Slytherin, but it's better than Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

"I guess that means you're very smart."

He is modest and he shrugs.

"I suppose I am marginally intelligent."

"What are your favorite classes?"

"Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration."

"Do you take Arithmancy?"

He is surprised by her question.

"Yes I did, but I'm afraid my scores didn't permit me to continue with it."

She frowns disappointedly.

"Shame, I can't wait to take Arithmancy."

They reach the gazebo at the back of the rose path. Harfang sits down and she sit next to him.

"Are you in your last year at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"What do you plan to do when you finish school?"

He pauses, fidgets, adjusts his hat.

"I hope to work in Magical Law Enforcement, my father's head of the department and he can help me secure a position. All of my strengths seem to point to a career in law enforcement. "

He offers her a tight, small smile that doesn't reach his brown eyes.

"If it is alright with you, I will send you letters while I am at Hogwarts. Would that be alright with you?"

She studies him with her pale, ice eyes. He is a nice man, and certainly a good deal more interesting than Ethelinda Yaxley.

"I suppose," she thinks for a minute "if you promise to send me an Arithmancy textbook."

Harfang seems taken aback but he laughs, and the laugh makes her feel warm inside again.

"I promise to send you an Arithmancy textbook, as long as you promise to write back."

"I suppose I will."

He is smiling vaguely as they walk back toward the Manor. She tells him about Charis and Ella and Ethelinda Yaxley. She tells him about the glass house behind the guest house, and how she likes to play with Ella and Charis in the glass house. She tell him about her father's library and how she sneaks in at night to read some of the bigger books her father doesn't want her to read because it is 'improper' for young ladies to read too much or they'll end up like great auntie Isla and get blasted off the family tree.

When they arrive at the Manor, she is sorry to see him go. He was good fun and she can't wait to tell Ella and Charis about her new friend.

Lysandra is delighted.

"Oh, Dora, this is wonderful. A rich pureblood husband for you, and you're not yet eight years old."

* * *

A/N: Callidora Black and Harfang Longbottom are canon characters from the Black Family Tree. I'm thinking this will be multi-chaptered if I can get motivated enough to crank out chapters.

Reviews would be lovely :)

So if you would?


	2. Chapter 2

shiver

By Nanaho-Hime

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

_I'd love to meet the future missus soon, Harfang. Of course, Mr. Rookwood._

* * *

"I hear from reliable sources that you are engaged to be married, Harfang."

Genial smile. Uncomfortable squirm.

"Yes, yes I am."

Chuckle. Blush.

"Well, why haven't I seen her around? It doesn't do to keep the little lady all to yourself!"

Oh, he has no idea how little she is.

Fidget. An askance glance.

"She hasn't been feeling too well lately, she's up in the country for a bit of fresh air."

Lie. Fake smile. Squirm.

"Oh, well, send her my regards, may I ask who she is?"

Caught. Terrible liar alert.

"Callidora."

He will find out eventually.

"Callidora Black."

Jaw drop. Blush. Cough. Cough.

"Oh, I see."

Sympathetic eyes. Encouraging smile.

"I'd love to meet the future missus soon, Harfang."

Fake smile.

"Of course, Mr. Rookwood ."

* * *

Callidora Black is eleven years old, and eager to board the scarlet steam engine. She waits impatiently for Harfang, because he promised to come, and Harfang always keeps his promises. It doesn't bother her anymore, calling him by his first name. It seems silly to call him Mr. Harfang, especially when he doesn't act like a mister. He certainly doesn't act like Mr. Malfoy, or Mr. Avery, or Mr. Rosier and that's what she likes about him.

Mother takes her to the station without father, and Dora is a little bit sad, because all of the children have both mothers and fathers on the platform, but she has Charis and Ella and Harfang and that beats all the fathers in the world.

Ella and Charis are crying, Charis clinging to one hand, Ella clinging to the other. Callidora doesn't want to leave her sisters behind, but she must go to school, and soon Ella will be coming and then Charis and she'll write loads of letters, she will.

She tries not to cry. She doesn't want Harfang to see her cry, but when Charis's lower lip trembles, and Ella begs her not to go, she can feel the lump in her throat.

"Now girls, no crying," She chokes out, "what would people think? You're putting the Black family name to shame."

"Sorry, Dora." Ella sobbed.

"Yeah, sorry Dora."

Callidora offers them a brave smile, and after a quick round of hugs, she turns to her mother. Lysandra Black looks uncomfortable with her teary daughters, but Dora can see her mother's gray eyes turn misty.

"You're a big girl now, Callidora."

"Yes mother."

"Behave in school,"

"I will mother."

Lysandra puts a hand atop her daughters head, and it is stiff and awkward but it is affection all the same.

"Send an owl if you need anything."

It is, perhaps, the most touching conversation Dora has ever had with her mother.

"Dora!"

Both Black women spin around, wearing identically wide smiles. Lysandra's is greedy and Dora's is pleased. Harfang Longbottom is breathless, his brown hair windswept, and he is wearing an apologetic, sheepish smile.

"Quick good-bye, yes? Before you go off on the train."

Lysandra rounds up Cedrella and Charis, offering Harfang a cheery wave before disappearing into the crowd. Harfang is smiling at Callidora, but Dora is rubbing her grey eyes, and making sniffling noises, and Harfang's smile is immediately replaced with a look of concern.

"Dora? Dora is something wrong?"

Dora is blinking repeatedly, because Dora does _not _cry. Because intelligent little girls who are good at Arithmancy do not cry. Because Blacks don't cry at home, because it is a sign of weakness and Dora is _not _weak. Harfang looks troubled, and he runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it was before.

"Are you upset because you'll be separated from your sisters?"

Dora nods wordlessly, still rubbing at her eyes.

"Dora, they'll be with you soon."

She nods, because if she speaks, she fears she will bawl just like Charis when she skins her knees. Harfang puts a hand on top of her head.

"You'll do wonderfully, you're a very precocious little girl, you'll make plenty of new friends."

She is full out crying now, because she doesn't believe him, because no one has ever liked her, because everyone thinks she's strange, and she doesn't _care_ but she's always had Ella and Charis and this year she won't.

"No I won't Harfang, people don't like me."

She takes a chance and looks into his face. He is frowning, as though he is struggling with a thought.

"Ella and Charis like you," he hesitates, "and I like you."

She smiles through her tears, and she wipes her eyes with the sleeves of her black robes, "I know."

"And besides," Harfang seems embarrassed, "Isn't Cassiopeia in your year? You have plenty of cousins to keep you company."

As if on cue, Cassie Black sneaks in behind Dora and tugs on her cousin's black curls. Callidora gives a little yelp and turns to glare at Cassiopeia who is grinning, clearly in relief at knowing someone who'll actually speak to her. Harfang isunder the impression that Cassie doesn't really converse with her elder brothers much. Cassie and Dora fall into easy conversation and Harfang sends his young fiancée off to her first year in school with a smile on her face.

He watches the scarlet steam engine leave the station and waits as the crowd begins to thin. Eric had promised to meet him at the station, and he really doesn't feel like apparating back to his flat to train for the next round of examinations. Training for the law enforcement exams is strenuous work, and, quite honestly, he is sick of doing pushups. So help him, he is not going to do another pushup for a good few hours.

He can feel a sigh coming up.

He's actually grown to care about the little girl. Dora is a unique young lady. She is talented, and bright and vivacious. She is frighteningly intelligent, and she is refreshingly honest. This friendship thing is proving to be dangerous, she might become so much like a little sister that he'll be unable to go through with the wedding, and that can only end in disaster.

In any case, he enjoys their written correspondence immensely, and whether they like it or not they will be married. He just hopes it will work out.

"Harfang, what's with the long face, chum?"

Harfang is jarred from his thoughts by his best friend, Eric Macmillan, a fellow Ravenclaw and a cheerful, amicable bloke. He gives him a weak smile but continues to look disturbed. Eric's grin is replaced with concern.

"Well, how's the little missy doing?"

"Well, I hope."

"I'm sure she's doing spectacularly, from what I've heard she's a tough little lady."

Harfang is still deep in thought, "Dora is not a lady and she's not a princess."

Eric is staring at him as though he's popped out another limb, and it takes a good few minutes before Harfang realizes what he said. He is blushing furiously, and Eric is chuckling, and it is really a rather awkward situation.

"Well, seems the little lady's got you wrapped around her finger."

Harfang shrugs, "She's my future wife isn't she? I'm making it my business to know all I can about her."

Eric nudged him with his elbow, a sly grin on his face, "You think she's incredible."

"Well, as eleven year old fiancée's go she's not that bad."

Eric laughs again.

"You're worried about her, I'm sure she'll be fine."

Harfang is staring at the train track, his eyes glazed over, "Yeah."

* * *

Dear Harfang,

I was sorted in Slytherin! Mother and father are absolutely ecstatic, but, then again, how could I end up anywhere else? Cassie's also in Slytherin, but so is Ethelinda Yaxley and you know how I feel about her.

They won't let me take Arithmancy as a first year, even though I showed them that I can do all of the course work without parchment and a quill. It's all rather frustrating. Abraxas Malfoy has been very helpful as the Prefect and the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts are next week. Cassie and I are going to watch.

I must say that I loathe Transfiguration, but I love Potions and Charms. Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts are horrible.

It's not as bad as I thought it would be. I miss you very much. How is your training going? Please keep me updated.

Sincerely,

Callidora (or Dora or Callie or Dorie but _never _princess)

* * *

Dear Dora, (Don't worry, I would never dream of insinuating you are of royal descent)

Well, congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin. I know that is the house you wanted to be in, and I'm happy for you. And I'm sorry about Arithmancy, but those are the school rules.

I'm surprised that you're having trouble with Transfiguration and DADA. If you have any questions you know you can always ask me.

Training is terrible as always. I just want to throw the darn rulebook at my boss's head. I miss you too Dorie, and I hope you're managing well.

Looking forward to your next letter,

Harfang

* * *

A/N: Reviews would be lovely so if you would?


	3. Chapter 3

shiver

By Nanaho-Hime

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

_I'm ruining her life Eric; I'm taking things away from her_

* * *

Dear Harfang,

From your last letter it seems that you're not getting enough sleep. Now, I know you're terribly busy in the department, but it won't do to get yourself killed. I'm still slightly upset that you won't tell me what those nightmares are about, but they can't be too terrible. You're making me worry Harfang, and I don't appreciate that at all.

On a happier note, I've become good friends with one of the Slytherin beaters. Damocles Lestrange, you know, eldest son of the Lestranges? He's set to marry Bellona Burke, but she's only a first year and they don't really speak much. He's an incredible beater, nearly broke Charlus Potter's nose (Dorea wasn't too pleased about that). He's incredibly intelligent, and he must be to run his father's estate, and he's wonderfully charming. I rather enjoy his company.

NEWT level Arithmancy is going splendidly. Professor Belmont is absolutely brilliant, and the course work is, perhaps, the only thing that makes me genuinely happy.

I don't really want to tell mother because I know she'll just run off and tell Tante Violetta, but something's wrong with Cassie. She's become terribly quiet lately, and she's been spouting some strange ideas. She really hasn't been herself and she's worrying me just as much as you.

Ella has also been acting strangely. She's been sneaking around, and she's been avoiding many of her old friends, and when I try to speak to her about it she just laughs and brushes me off. It's incredibly irritating and I think it's fairly obvious that she's keeping something from me.

Please write me back soon Harfang. I feel as though everyone I've ever counted on is drifting away from me and it frightens me.

Hoping to hear from you soon,

Callidora

--

Harfang Longbottom

Why have I not heard from you in weeks now? Are you ignoring me? Is something wrong? How could you do this to me? I understand that one day we are to be married and I understand that I may not be your first choice, but you could at the very least tell me what's wrong. I thought we were maybe close enough that you would have the decency to write. This isn't like you and I must say I am extremely disappointed.

Dora

--

Eric Macmillan glances at his best friend. Harfang looks absolutely miserable. His brown hair is disheveled; there is stubble on his chin and shadows under his eyes. His study looks as though a hippogriff has torn through it, and his robes are wrinkled.

Eric skims through the two letters again, and sighs. Honestly.

"Well, I agree with her, you're a prat."

Harfang groans, and runs his hand through his hair.

"I'm ruining her life."

"No you're not."

"She clearly fancies that Lestrange bloke, but she can't do anything about it because she's my fiancée."

"That's not your fault."

"Yes it is, I chose her."

"So? Her parents could have refused you."

"I'm ruining her life Eric. I'm taking things away from her. She can't choose like other girls, I'm taking away some of the best years of her life. We're marrying when she graduates. She's just _too _young, and it's not fair to her."

"Has this thought just occurred to you?"

"I've been having nightmares about her. Either she gets hurt or she's crying and telling me I ruined her life, and I took away her youth. I almost want to call the whole thing off but I can't do anything about it."

"You're being stupid. The only thing you're ruining is the relationship you have. You're obviously hurting her, and she obviously cares about you, even if it's only friendship. That is a hundred times better than some of the other pureblood arrangements out there."

Harfang doesn't look convinced; he's fiddling with the ring in his hand. Eric's eyes soften at the look of uncertainty on his best friend's face.

"You care about her?"

Harfang continues to examine the ring.

"Of course I do, but is that strange? I feel as though it is, I shouldn't care about her the way I do."

Eric grins, "It's not strange, she's nearly at the right age, and honestly, the older you get the more the age difference won't matter."

"Do you think I can make her happy?"

"Yeah, I do."

--

Callidora Black is sixteen years old and adjusting her hair in the mirror. In light of Harfang's sudden disappearance, she sees no reason why she can't visit Hogsmeade with Damocles Lestrange. Harfang shouldn't mind, and Cassie and Helladius Prince would be in attendance as well. It is not a date, she likes to remind herself, but she feels uneasy as she applies some rouge to her pale cheeks.

To say she is angry with Harfang is accurate; to say she is sad is an understatement.

She cannot understand why he is ignoring her. Considering her last letter, it seems an aberration that he would so blatantly ignore her for so long. She cannot talk to her mother because Lysandra may very well turn it into the scandal of the century.

Ella is strange and distant as well as Cassieopia, and Dora cannot very well confide in twelve year old Charis. It seems she is truly alone now, and she is frustrated and sad, and maybe even a little heartbroken.

_Where are you Harfang?_

"Dora, what is taking you so long?"

Cassie is tapping her foot at the entrance to the girl's dorm. She is pretty with her long brown hair, and her big blue eyes, but her face is thin and her expression is dour.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

She gives herself a once over in the mirror and hurries after Cassie. Damocles is waiting at the bottom of the stairs and she can feel herself color at the smile on his face. There is a twinge of guilt in her stomach, but she ignores it. Harfang evidently has no qualms about ignoring her, so she should have no qualms in seeing other boys. It's all in good fun.

"You look lovely," Damocles compliments her. Dora doesn't understand why his voice makes her feel sick to her stomach. Bellona Burke is sitting in a chair by the fire, and she is wearing a wounded expression. Damocles doesn't seem to notice her.

Bellona Burke is a pretty little thing, with big eyes and long eyelashes. She rises out of her seat, and calls out for Damocles.

He turns to her, disinterested, and after a few minutes of discussion Bellona nods, and heads back up to the girl's dormitories.

"Is everything alright?"

Damocles nods, "Bell just had a question about her Potions homework."

Dora knows that Bellona doesn't have any questions concerning Potions homework, but she is silent. It is a cold October morning, and she is grateful for Helladius Prince's presence. He speaks in a careful drawl about his trip to Bulgaria to visit his cousins, and it fills up the awkward silence that seems to engulf them. Cassie is uncharacteristically sullen, and Damocles is distracted, and Dora feels that if she opens her mouth she will choke on her guilt.

They split up upon reaching The Three Broomsticks. Dora shares a table with Damocles, and Helladius takes Cassie to buy more quills.

"I believe that little Bellona may be slightly jealous."

She doesn't mean to voice her thoughts aloud, and Damocles is surprised by her boldness.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well, I can't be too sure, but I've heard some raving testimonials concerning her Potions work."

Damocles takes a sip of his butterbeer, "Bell is only eleven, we are marrying because it is proper. She is of a good pureblood lineage as am I. She is still very young."

"How do you feel about her?"

He coughs a little to mask his flush, "I am fond of her yes. She will make a good wife."

"Take good care of her Damocles, a happy wife makes for a happy home."

Damocles laughs a little.

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

She laughs as well, because he is right. It is nonsense. Purebloods don't marry for love, and pureblood women are very rarely truly happy. If Dora was to take her own family as an example, her mother, Tante Violetta, Tante Belvina, and Tante Hesper were certainly unhappy women. They were wealthy and they were of pureblood, but she's never seen a smile on her mother's face that wasn't full of greed.

That's no real life.

"You know," she speaks up, "Bellona is my cousin, her mother is my father's sister."

Damocles is smiling softly and Dora is surprised, "Bell is a good girl, I'm a bit stern with her, but we'll be content, rest assured."

Dora does not know why, but she wants to cry at the softness in Damocles' voice. Before she can excuse herself to the restroom, a familiar figure situates himself behind Damocles. Harfang Longbottom is standing in the middle of The Three Broomstick's, looking a little worse for the wear, and more than a little unhappy.

Dora is gaping unabashedly, and Damocles has his head tilted in confusion.

"I'll just be borrowing her for a bit, Damocles."

The Lestrange heir peers over his shoulder, recognition dawns on his face, and he rises out of his seat to shake hands with Harfang.

"Mr. Longbottom, it's good to see you."

"Likewise, I just need a quick word with Callidora."

"Not a problem Mr. Longbottom, we were just discussing Bellona."

Dora is furious, absolutely furious, that he would just pop up out of the blue and demand a word with her. She wants to shout at him, but she is a pureblood Black and when he offers her his arm she takes it, albeit reluctantly.

They are silent as he leads her out the door, and out into the secluded part of Hogsmeade, by the snow covered mountains.

"Dora?"

She doesn't answer him.

"Are you angry at me?"

She hears the tremor in his voice.

"Do you hate me Dora?"

She looks up at him out of the corner of her eye. He hasn't shaved in weeks, there are bags under his eyes, and he looks so miserable that she doesn't have the heart to say that she does.

"I don't hate you, but I am a bit upset. Why were you ignoring me?"

"I had to make a decision."

"And you couldn't talk to me about it at all?"

"It was about you."

She can feel her heart sink to the region of her navel.

"Have you changed your mind Harfang?" she can hear her voice rise, "Do you not want to marry me anymore?"

He is quiet. She can't stand the silence, and she wishes that he'd just answer and put her out of her agony. She knows he is deep in thought, she knows too much about him.

"That depends;" he replies slowly, "Do you fancy Damocles Lestrange?"

She stops in the middle of the woods to face him. He releases her arm and it is clear to her now that he is nervous.

"Harfang Longbottom, you are my fiancée, not Damocles Lestrange."

"That doesn't mean anything," his voice is desperate, "You didn't choose me."

"What does that matter," she is angry, "I choose you now."

"Do you think that I can make you happy?"

She stares at him with her big grey eyes. Even when he is standing in front of her, a complete and total wreck it still lifts her spirits to see him. His presence always makes her happy.

"Yes."

He is flushing, and out of his robe pocket, he pulls out a velvet box.

"Well then, I-I'd really like it if you wore this, I mean, if you would like."

He opens the box, and Dora gasps. It is a small diamond, because he knows she is not extravagant, on a simple band of white gold. It is elegant, and simple and so beautiful and Dora believes this is the happiest moment of her life. On the inside of the ring there is an inscription.

_To Dora, Never Princess Love Always Harfang_

She slips the ring carefully onto her left ring finger, and Harfang is blushing and stuttering like mad. For the first time since she was very small Dora hugs Harfang. He stiffens in her embrace, but slowly relaxes and he holds her close to him.

Callidora Black is sixteen and she is glowing.

* * *

A/N: Hello all, sorry I was unable to reply to reviews. School has just begun and its going to be a challenge getting chapters up at all. Sorry for the excess amount of fluff...I know I'm not very good at fluff.

Reviews would be lovely so if you would?


End file.
